RENUNCIATION, UKRAINE  After Tolstoy    [Stefanie Bennett]

 

 

Best forget why he’s here

And from where he came.

If his step

            Thundered

The blunt black

                      Bloodstone

Of gunfire

Amid the roses...

 

The Crimea wasn’t a parking-lot – then.

A September suburb

Pummelled by

A double

Or nothing

Sequestrator.

 

These days, eavesdroppers

Unerringly

Find him

             De-frocked;

                             Servile, and

Beating

Tell-able words

Into ploughshares;

 

Into a peace

That

Shatters.